XFan
by Joy Ellison
Summary: On a visit to Area 51, one thing leads to another and an X-Phile ends up stranded in the world of the X-Files.
1. Default Chapter

One: Opening Teaser

Present Day; 8:39 p.m.

**I**t was a Sunday night. The weather of the day had been dark and rainy. It was a perfect day to watch my show. It was Vancouver weather.

I watched the television set good-naturedly. That was unusual for me- being good-natured on a cloudy day. (I think I have acute seasonal affective disorder. This is only one opinion, though. And, thus, I couldn't get out of gym for it.)

I couldn't help smiling as I watched the program being played. My mind was completely in sync with it. I was taking in three, no- maybe five aspects in at a time.

…The tone of the character's voice, the words spoken, their hairstyles, clothes, the surroundings…

I didn't even realize that I was doing so. I was… in the zone. It was greatly imaginable that if a bomb had dropped in the smack-dab middle of my living room, while I was engaged with this glorious show… I would not have even flinched. I was completely concentrated on the goings ons in the television set. Ok. I admit it… it was becoming a hazard to my health. Only, guilty pleasures like this are just so damn hard to quit!

"You've got to love those dolphins ... although they're pretty tasty, too." A male voice deadpanned from the T.V. set.

There was short, awkward silence when all of a sudden:

"Ah-hahaha!" A nervous female voice laughed, obviously covering up for the male's remarks. I didn't realize it, but I was smiling, smiling, smiling at the scene.

Then a third voice spoke: "So... Where'd you two meet?" He asked casually.

The red-haired woman on TV opened her mouth to speak, but her male accomplice beat her to responding.

"Actually, it was a UFO conference." The darker-haired man answered with a playful twinkle in his eye. I thought it was cute. The red-haired woman didn't seem to agree with me.

The third person, who had a "is that so?" expression on his face, stated his surprise, "Flying saucers? Interesting. Wouldn't have thought you folks would have been into that."

The dark-haired man pleasantly put his arm around the red-haired woman, "Well, it's not me so much as Laura." She fought to keep herself from physically hurting her partner. He continued on, "She's quite the New-Ager! I mean, she's into those magnetic bracelets and crystals and mood rings, what have you." He chuckled, "I mean, God bless her! She's a sucker for all that stuff."

At that point I was Grinning like a Cheshire cat. Being tempted to rewind and relive that scene once more. (Even after breaking the VCR that one time. Will I ever learn?) 

"Well, I wouldn't have guessed that, would you?" A fourth, Martha Stewartish female voice asserted.

"Mm-mm."

The red-haired woman glanced at her food and forced a smile, "No kidding."

The scene was of two couples having a casual evening meal. The first couple, well, they weren't truly "a couple", but undercover FBI agents.

The second was a married couple, who may or may not have had something do with crimes committed in their "white-bred" neighborhood. (Sorry for the vague description, but I don't want to ruin the episode)

Of course, I had already known what happened in the end. Watching this episode was much like reading a beloved book again, similar to revisiting an old friend. I hadn't kept count of how many times I had watched this one. Was this the tenth? It was definitely more than five. I was sure on that. Maybe seven… no, it was more than that. The twenty-ninth time, perhaps.

The episode started with the gruesome murders of another couple that had previously inhabited the home of the dark-haired man and the red-haired woman. After their murders, the third "disappearance" since 1991, it was classified a generic "X-File". (An X-File was a case "unsolved" and had more to do with –cue the spooky music- the paranormal.) Therefore, Special Agent Fox Mulder and Special Agent Dana Scully were assigned to the case and were ordered to investigate it undercover as a happily married couple. Their names now Mr. and Mrs. Rob and Laura Petrie (pronounced Pee-tree, like the dish). Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore would be so proud, I'm sure.

By that time in the conversation, the male agent, Mulder, had changed the subject to a more serious one: The whereabouts of a neighbor, who had recently gone missing, "Yeah. You know, Win, uh, when you, uh... when you told me this morning that Big Mike was out of town on business ... I don't think that's true."

The man, Win Shroeder's, faces turned grim, "You don't?" His wife, Cami, shared the same expression.

"Mmm. No, 'cause we called his office, didn't we, Honey?"

His partner, Scully, confidently affirmed it, "We did."

"Yeah."

Shroeder cleared his throat rather uneasily.

Mulder looked at Shroeder, sensing his uneasiness, and then promptly explained, "We're thinking about getting a dog- so we wanted to call him and ask him his advice, whatever, and see if maybe his office had a forwarding number and they said, you know..."

"That he wasn't there. They didn't know where he was," Scully finished, with a slight tinge of concern in her voice.

"Yeah." There was a silence.

Scully suddenly questioned, "Do you know where he is, Win?" She also felt a sudden tension between the Shroeders, and herself and Mulder.

They knew something.

Cami nervously looked at her husband, who then laughed, "I really couldn't tell you."

Mulder grinned, "Mmm. It's got to be something really freaky-deaky, huh? …I mean, for him to lie about it like that? Maybe he's got some wild secret life going on," he looked at Scully and gave out a little chortle. He then looked straight at the very uncomfortable Shroeders; his facial expression turning somber; his tone almost arraigning, "But every community has its dark underbelly don't you think?"

"We don't have any underbelly." Shroeder replied protectively, "As far as I'm concerned this community is the American Dream." His expression also dark, Mulder nodded at his words, although, I don't think Mulder believed in the American Dream from tip to toe.

Cami Shroeder broke the silence, "Um... I'm sorry. I, um... realize that it's past time that I walk Scruffy."

"Would you like company?" Scully lightly asked.

Cami stood up and answered, "Yeah."

As the women stood up from the table, so did the men. Mulder mischievously grew closer to embrace (and I don't mean just hug) his partner, but was quickly received with an "air kiss" from Scully a few inches away from his face. Mulder turned to Win and grinned- almost as widely as I was while watching. The men then sat down again and the scene ended.

I hit the stop button on the remote, when I heard a sudden loud noise from the ventilation shaft above me. Now, I wasn't what you'd call "calm and collected" when it came to vents, or escalators for that matter. I won't get into that one time at the mall the escalator was making weird "bodily noises"… but I had the X-Files television show to thank for that also. (Myself being nervous around vents and escalators, I mean.)

The darkness of the room didn't help expel the grim atmosphere. Which was partly my fault, as I enjoyed watching the science fiction drama in the dark-- it enhanced the experience.

Now suddenly I was increasingly becoming uncomfortable in my own home. The wind force increased… making a sound resembling someone's breathing. Psycho killer breathing. You know that feeling that people get in horror movies just when they're going to get slashed up into little tiny bacon bits? (Or the feeling where you suddenly become a supporter of capital punishment, albeit as a rule you're an avid opponent against it?) I was feeling it.

I looked up… there was nothing; I could feel warm air blowing down on me, my eyes slightly stinging as I kept looking without blinking an eye. It was darkness up there… obviously. I would need a flashlight to see anything… Was I so paranoid to resort to "further exploration" of the "sound" coming from my vent? Yes, I was.

I stared at the switched off set. The sound stopped. I swallowed hard, closing my eyes to hear the sounds in the blackness of my mind. There it was! Again! It was as if SOMEONE was moving through the shafts.

"No. It isn't." I scolded myself, "It isn't like someone moving through the shafts!"

It then stopped. I swallowed again. My breathing became tenser. I stood up from the couch; as a result my blood rushed through my legs. I slowly, cautiously, apprehensively looked up at the vent. I closed my eyes again, having the distinct feeling that I was being watched. I opened them… 

Cue this time the climactic Jaws music because, I WAS being watched. Small red-green eyes looked at me and I looked back at them. I was motionless and speechless at the same time. Generally the two go together.

I took deeper and deeper breaths. My heart beat even faster as I realized I wasn't the only in the room. Those eyes did not belong to any human… they couldn't have… they were…

"…aliens?"

I quickly looked back at my television set. It had suddenly turned on! I searched the room to see if there was anybody else. I was the only one.

Scully continued, "Tractor beams?"

"Wow. Admit it: you just want to play house." Mulder accused.

I turned off the TV and in front of it I stood puzzled, still holding that damn remote.

"How the hell?" I thought to myself.

The 'couples having dinner scene' I just happily watched was AFTER the scene played just then… I looked up at the vent again- The Eyes had disappeared. The sound had stopped. I was sure that I had pressed the "stop" button, instead of "rewind". I was positive. Reading electronic labels is one of my most cherished talents. And how did it turn itself on again? Spooky that it didn't any make sense. Pretty spooky.

I sighed and uttered the most logical explanation, "I've been watching WAAAY too much X-Files."

As a result, I decided not to "investigate" this matter any further. It was merely a result of a power outage, and I really didn't SEE anything up there. It was just my imagination playing tricks. The very idea was frankly impossible, and there was no use worrying about it anyway. (It seemed like the best explanation at the time, OKAY!?)

I took the tape out of the VCR. It was marked in silver felt pen: "Season Six: Arcadia – The Unnatural". I then put it in its cover, decorated with a big picture of the agents in a gallant and somewhat suggestive pose.

"Good night, Mulder and Scully."

I looked at the VCR clock, "9:04 p.m.".


	2. The Case Is An XFile

Two: The Case Is an X-File

FBI Headquarters; Washington D.C.

Monday, April '99, 6:26 a.m.

(Xniverse)

Special Agent Fox Mulder walked into his office, holding an X-file in his hand. As he proceeded to place the file on top of many more files a photograph fell out. 

"Jesus." He murmured to himself. He bent down to pick up the photograph, briskly glancing at it when he saw something.

His hazel eyes gazed at the image focusing on one certain aspect. He brought the photograph closer to his face and studied it further.

The picture was of a dead man. He lay sprawled on his bed. The man had looked as if he died of exhaustion. He was very thin and his face was a disturbing mixture of blue, green, and gray. Carmine blood had trickled down from a nostril onto his upper lip and dirtied an already unsightly facial hair. There was a swelling in and around his mouth. The man's yellowish eyes were blank and lifeless, looking up.

This was no shock or tragedy for Mulder. He'd seen these pictures many times- he had seen even worse in person. What had got his attention were the man's hands.

"Mulder." Special Agent Dana Scully entered the office holding her briefcase in one hand and a cup of Starbucks coffee in another. Her eyes rested on Mulder who had his attention somewhere else. She placed the briefcase on his desk and crept up behind him, getting up on tiptoes to have a glance at the picture he held. Mulder and Scully had about an eleven-inch difference in height (if you're curious).

"Whatcha looking at?" She asked with a faint indication of a smile on her face.

"You ever hear of Kirlian Photography, Scully?" He finally uttered, looking back at his partner.

She had. On that case with the cancer eating, limb regenerating, instinctively homicidal EMT. Nevertheless, she played along with whatever Mulder was up to.

Scully looked back at him, "Mulder," she warningly said, "You can't be on to something this early on a Monday morning, can you?"

Mulder turned to face her with an amiable chuckle, "I might be." 

"Well… if my memory of "paranormal phenomenon" serves me correct- it's a process…" Scully paused briefly and looked at Mulder to see if she was on the right track, "a process of innocuous electron cascades and high voltage frequencies which inevitably would photograph someone's 'bio-plasma.' " She gestured her fore and middle fingers in quotation. Mulder smiled.

She continued, "And then people like you would say that these 'energy-field auras' captured on film could explain something about our lives, for example somebody's psychological condition." She watched Mulder with her striking blue eyes for an answer, a quip, anything for that matter.

Mulder gently put his hand on her shoulder and whispered, "Why, Agent Scully, you're a walking paranormal dictionary!"

Mulder should speak for himself. The man was a walking encyclopedia of supposed paranormal activity. He'd be fun to take on camping trips.

Scully nodded sarcastically, "I suppose this man's picture is exhibiting signs that may suggest this picture has been taken using 'Kirlian Photography'… what are the chances of that?"

Mulder handed the photograph to Scully and then took his seat behind the desk. "Take a look at his hands, Scully."

Scully looked at the dead man's hands; "His middle finger protrudes slightly up…"

Mulder exhaled a quiet laugh. He got the joke. It's been said many times that Agent Scully has a really bad sense of humor—if any. She was dubbed the Ice Queen by fans. Other fans, like myself, still abstain from passing judgment.

Scully smirked, "Yeah, I see it, Mulder. But, what I don't see is your point."

"His hands are obviously Kirlian images."

"Ok." She looked at the man's hands. They looked as if someone had taken an x-ray of a handprint and then she studied the rest of the body, "By the looks of this man- he died of an DOD. Um, he wet himself- there's evidence of inflammation of the mouth, there is a skin rash… on his forearm, and you can obviously see his skin is a of grayish complexion… maybe tranquilizers?" The man's symptoms could have been an X-File.

Mulder sighed and gave in, "He was a patient at a psychiatric center."

Scully decided to solve the mystery; "This man was murdered… possibly by an employee of the facility."

"You think so?" Mulder quipped.

Scully smiled rebelliously and took her seat in front of Mulder's desk, "You think they administered his tranquilizers sloppily?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Actually, Scully, I don't think this man was dead when the photograph was taken."

She raised a brow.

Right, Mulder, the man was just simply 'playing dead'. Kudos, to the mental patient for faking a DOD. Hey, Elvis, did it, right?

Scully looked at the picture again, "When was this picture taken?"

"9:50, Sunday night." Mulder answered, leaning back in his chair a little bit. "The authorities came at about 9:15 p.m. I estimate that the man was found maybe ten or so minutes after his death, which was approximately 9:00. Apparently a hospital worker was making his rounds and became suspicious when there was no noise coming from his chamber for long while. This patient was frequently prone to violent behavior. The tranquilizers that were administered to him had a funky affect on him, every time they were administered. The hospital decided to stop them the very morning of that day." 

"And then the man who found him was alarmed he wasn't behaving aggressively as he should have been and found him dead of an apparent overdose." Scully finished. "Mulder, it's obvious somebody had injected this poor man on various occasions, most likely unbeknownst to the others. As a result, last night he reached his climax. What surprises me is that nobody realized it when he started to indicate symptoms of overdose. What is if it was a conspiracy amongst the faculty, Mulder? The patient may have been too much for them to handle so they just-"

"-got rid of him? Kind of bad for business isn't it, Scully. I like your theory."

"But you don't agree with it?"

"Scully, can you see a person's aura after his death?"

Scully looked at him skeptically, "I beg your pardon?" 

"Well, scientifically speaking- the electrical discharge around objects are merely variations of pressures, perspiration, and heat… well, when have we ever seen a dead man sweat?"

"Mulder, first of all there's a small amount of scientific validity behind Kirlian photography, basing you're your theory on it- that this man wasn't dead-"

Mulder resumed his defense, "When people die they grow cold- the temperature of the room was sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, and this particular picture was taken about an hour after his death. Kirlian photography proved that Leonard Betts was indeed alive after his decapitation, not only that but directed his limb regeneration."

Scully scoffed, as she put the picture on an empty space beside his desk nameplate and changed her position in her seat; crossing her legs. "It was never technically proven that his "chi" actually re-grew his head. You came up with that one yourself. And- you're acting as if the patient walked off the morgue examination table! – Which I'm assuming he hasn't."

Mulder assuredly shook his head.

"This is the stuff that dreams are made of, Scully." Mulder exuberantly replied.

Scully quipped, "Your dreams, perhaps."

"A month ago, I found the same type of picture in another case file- the victim also a patient, but at a different facility."

She gave up reasoning with him for now, and warily eyed her partner. It was one thing when he contradicted science, and now he was contradicting himself. "Mulder, can't it be possible that this is simply an experiment the government is conducting regarding the brain activity of those with psychological problems, even problems caused by drug abuse, through some type of federally mandated Kirlian technology?"

Mulder raised his brows somewhat surprised by her explanation, "Now that is what dreams are made of."

"I've heard of no such program, Scully." He continued, "Furthermore, I looked up the first picture… and I found that other photos of the crime scene and victim were not taken with Kirlian photography. And I can make a safe bet that this one is will come up with the same matches."

He stopped and gazed at his skeptical partner with doggedness, "It's just too uncanny, Scully. The Feds just happen to snap a couple of these rare pictures of only DOD victims for sheer thrills?"

"I don't conceive the situation to be that sinister… that there is some great Kirlian rooted conspiracy against mental patients just for sheer thrills, Mulder."

"Nonetheless, this case is an X-File. These pictures fall into our specialty."

"I guess this rules out any suspicion of a serial killer," suggested Scully.

Mulder took the picture and studied it briefly…

"You know me, Scully. I have plenty of theories."


	3. Area 51

Three: Area 51

Two Weeks Later (Phile World Time)   
Groom Lake Road   
Near (15 mi.) Air Force Flight Test Center, Detachment 3   
11:17 p.m.

I yawned sleepily as I looked out my bus window. The yawn overpowered me. Yawns can do that you know? I hadn't slept in over a day and my day had been a very long one. I was a sitting in a rented old Greyhound. 

The stars and desert almost looked like an olden painting… Did you know that looking at boring stuff makes you sleepier?

My friends and I were vacationing in Reno, when we met up with some Philes (devoted following of the television show The X-Files) mid-way into the trip. They explained that they had four extra tickets to an "Unofficial Tour of Area 51". Of course, I was the first to accept and my three friends followed my lead… they were forced to follow my lead anyway. 

We visited the usual spots, Tikaboo Peak, the claimed best view to Area 51 (or Air Force _Flight_ Test Center, Detachment 3) and then continued to Reville Peak. We had decided to camp out near the Black Mail Box for a while… but it turned out to be crowded beyond reason. Those freaks.

For the most part, my trip to Area 51 was a trip _around_ Area 51, and while I had taken an assortment of pictures of cactuses, desert, and a man peeing on a cactus in the desert, the trip had been mildly satisfactory: like the show's series finale, but I don't want to get into politics at the moment.

I had eaten a chilidog, which as a result had me stricken with troubles of a certain digestive organ and turned me to the "out-of-order" bus bathroom. I had never liked going on moving vehicles anyway. So, when we finally arrived at the Black Mailbox, I was very much tempted to walk up to the Medlin Ranch and ask, "to go potty" there. Fortunately for them and myself, I found a portable potty nearby.

I wrote a memo to myself… actually, I had my friend write it on my forehead. It said: "NO HARMFUL FOODS TO ENTER AT THE RISK OF…" and then I ran out of forehead. Thus, I walked around with that warning on my face for the rest of the day. We all thought it was so funny at first, and then it got old, really old. I mean, what's the sense in letting everyone know that you're at the brink of suffering irritable bowel syndrome?

Too much information? I must let you know _only_ the government has problems with too much information.

Once I got over that, I was left mainly angry that my whole trip was filled with restrictions and conditions. I understood it was a private military base, but what's the harm in "lOOking" at it? Maybe the government WAS hiding something from the American People. (As Mulder would so unwaveringly put it) 

My trip was drawing to a close. The last thing left on our tour was a nice short drive down Groom Lake Road. The guide explained to us that we'd eventually be stopped by Cammos (security for the base) and then turned around. The guide said that we'd go as far was we possibly could, but we shouldn't push anybody's buttons. The last thing anyone wanted to do was push the buttons of a bunch of dudes who walked around armed and in camouflage all day. Now that's a job I'd like to pass by… although, walking around in camouflage all day can have its perks, I'm sure.

I sat in my little velvety Greyhound seat. Leaning my head up against the cold window and feeling the bus's movements against my head.

I clutched my little ET doll and decided to use it as a pillow. I put my head up against the stuffed toy, when without warning the bus jerked backwards, making me hit my head on the window. And it HURT BAD!

"Dammit!" I cried. I rubbed my head as I looked out the window to see what was going on. The Cammos must've stopped us. But, I saw no one.

I looked over at the other passengers who seemed to have been in the same state of puzzlement as I was in. I then looked back outside. The desert was calm. I could hear the chirping of the crickets even. Miserably, I sunk down in my seat and waited for something to happen. Then, drank from my bottled water, which was now warmer. (I hate warm water!)

"What's going on?" I asked my friend. She shook her head in response. I stood up from my seat, and asked again, "Hey, what's happening?"

The driver an elderly man looked straight ahead. The guide did the same. Unless we were all playing a really psychedelic game of statue… this was weird. Psycho killer weird. 

"Okaaay…" I sat back down even more distressed. I looked at my alien doll, which I had fondly named Mulder and then looked back at the driver.

(I name everything Mulder. Sometimes Scully… for female things. Not those kind of female things- I mean female stuffed animals and other things that are supposed to be girls I owned. Oh! And I had named my cousin's beach blonde Barbie "Marita" after Mulder's third government informant Marita Covurrubias. I don't usually go naming people's things; however, Beach Fun Barbie needed a new, more Special Representative of the Secretary General type of name. If only my four-year-old cousin could pronounce "Co-voor-rooo-bee-us".)

"Well, how was your day, Mulder?" I pleasantly (and sarcastically) asked the doll.

The alien with its big gray head and black eyes remained still.

"That's what I thought." I answered back. I looked back at the driver-

And guess what?

HE WAS AN ALIEN! He wore this driver's suit, but he looked exactly like a gray alien! I immediately started to freak out. "This is not happening…" I whispered to myself. I closed my eyes shut and then moments later I reopened them. (I do that a lot when I'm uneasy)

He was back to normal again.

That made it official. I was a schizophrenic. Or a hallucinogenic… or any other funny farm name Agent Scully would call a person like me. Maybe that meant I was some brilliant genius… all the brilliant geniuses saw things… YES! They were visionaries! Of course!

Who was I kidding? I was scared and bored. Moreover, being scared and bored at the same time made people see things… unusual things.

The bus stayed there in that location for a long while. Nobody would speak and I wouldn't dare to either. I then closed my eyes again… and eventually fell… asleep…


End file.
